


Astronomer.

by Bulletprccf



Series: This Timeline is a Blank Canvas, an Endless Sky of Possibility. [2]
Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Fluff., M/M, alternate timeline; diverges after lockon loses his eye., innovade biology.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26036275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletprccf/pseuds/Bulletprccf
Summary: The final battle after he loses his eye results in Celestial Being’s disguised retreat, scattering them throughout bases both in space and on the ground.  Two Meisters now bide their time on Earth together, gazing upward.The sky is prettier when viewed from the surface.
Relationships: Neil Dylandy/Tieria Erde, Tieria Erde/Lockon Stratos
Series: This Timeline is a Blank Canvas, an Endless Sky of Possibility. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889905
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Astronomer.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to:
> 
> irysa,
> 
> for being at my side during my time of need. computers, it seems, are also human, and i, like tieria, struggle to feel and comprehend emotions at times. thank you, for opening the path forward.
> 
> \---
> 
> it is recommended to read the first in this series before coming here.

“Unclose your mind. You are not a prisoner. You are a bird in flight, searching the skies for dreams.” – Haruki Murakami

* * *

“Do you love the color of the sky?”

“The sky tends to be many different colors.” Currently, the aforementioned dome is a deep cerulean, mellowing out to pure blue around the edges. The sun is hiding behind a huge puff of cumulus clouds, sending pale flickers of light down to a grassy meadow where two people lay together. Their fingers are entwined atop a patch of flowering clover, and their hair, fanned out over the green ground ivy, rustles in the light breeze.

“You look at it often. I know you prefer the surface over being up there, so I’m curious.”

“Mm…” He shifts to put his free hand behind his head. “I do like all the colors the sky tends to be, with the sunrise ones being my favorite.”

“Because you enjoy being an early riser?”

“Nah, that’s just an added bonus. The sunrise...has a lot of red and dark purple.”

“...I see.” Fingers squeeze in tentative appreciation.

“Y’know, I did a project in grade school about the sky. Ever since then, it’s fascinated me: cloud patterns, weather cycles, radiation in the atmosphere, how far away the stars are, how the curve of the Earth filters what colors we see.”

“Did you want to research it, before you were recruited as a Meister?”

There’s an awkward shrug, jarred by the ground beneath. “I just think it’s neat.”

Two yellow butterflies chase each other over the couple, drawing their attention. Their wings look very pretty next to violet hair. He slowly raises his unoccupied hand, extending a finger towards them -- 

And one of them lands there! It’s a picture from Irish faerie tales, of a sídhe speaking with little magical creatures that frolic in hollows.

When the other winged being lands on the nose matching outstretched hand, he can’t help but huff out a laugh. Despite their perch remaining completely still through the entire event, the butterflies startle and take off into the spring air. At the resulting scowl, he gasps another chuckle: “Sorry, sorry -- ”

Nails dig into the back of his hand, a pinch of retribution.

They do absolutely nothing for the poorly-contained laughter. “Ow, ow -- stop that! You just reminded me of a faerie from tales I heard as a child.”

Head turns with a critical frown. “Are not the Irish fae regarded as tricksters who lie and pull cruel, meaningless pranks?”

“Mm. When you put it that way, the Trinitys are probably closer. Hmmm...the fae were usually pretty like you, though. If you were more suited to undercover or espionage missions I’d say you’d be exactly the part.”

He bristles at the mention of the three false Meisters, disgusting memories surfacing. “Perhaps…”

“Hm...now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure you’re the type who would be spirited away by faeries. You’d be too curious to not follow them, not to mention too confident to think it might be too dangerous.”

“That’s ridiculous -- ”

“Is it, though?” He sits up abruptly, propping himself up on his free arm to gaze down at his companion. “If, one day, a faerie came to you and promised you all the answers you want -- how the Trinitys and Alejandro Corner came to obtain their power, why and how someone managed to betray Celestial Being, _how you could fully reconnect with VEDA_ \-- could you really promise me that you’d say no?”

“...I suppose the right thing to do would be to say, ‘Of course.’” He also sits up, but chooses to stare at his bare toes, deep in contemplation. “Because...well, I am unsure of the vendetta you have against Ali al-Saachez, but you...chose to protect me in that final battle instead of rushing to kill him at high risk of yourself. You...stayed at my side. So I should do the same for you. But…” He hunches over, tucking knees into his chest and curling toes into the grass.

Silence settles for a very long minute, long enough that a sigh is given, but --

The movement is so fast that it surprises nearby dandelions into leaving their homes. Lips press against their comfort in a quick brush. Eyes full of conflict hold an unsteady but brave regard. “If -- ...If such a faerie does not come tomorrow but instead later -- I could...most likely say no. Until then…” He drops his head to the strong shoulder opposite. “Please take care of me.” Hand, still joined to the other, squeezes lightly. It silently asks to be held in times of need.

“How far away is later?” And suddenly the question has a different weight -- they are no longer talking about a trickster but a different type of fairy tale.

“As long as you want.” This answer is immediate, with none of the previous remorseful hesitation.

“A -- ...Are you sure? That might be...static. An equation only has one answer, no matter how many times you work it out.”

“There is only one sky, but the colors it offers at any given time are never the same.”

And at that, both hands cup the chin that rests and bring it closer. This kiss is deeper: a reflection of both feelings and logic, a painting of the sunrise precisely calculated to be nothing except exquisite. Hands tangle in soft hair, knocking free a stray leaf, while others rest on shoulders, curling into fabric and skin.

They part for air, staring at each other, trying and failing to find more words to say. So instead of struggling, lips meet again, this time soft and slow, sweet and understanding.

Palms press slender shoulders back, into the lush green below. Mouth dips again, and again, and once more. Bodies align closer, the man on top resting on his forearms to kiss his cherished. Somehow an inquisitive tongue is involved, linking jaws together in a warm caress. Glasses and eyepatch are haphazardly removed, and shirts gain quite a few extra wrinkles due to wandering fingers.

At the next stolen breath, butterflies of a romantic, rather than literal, nature are gifted across pale cheek. Arms wrap upward around war-hardened torso, tugging their prize closer. Lips meet yet again, twisting languidly together in a tender, unspoken conversation.

Eventually, the platitudes slow to barest whispers together, and more clouds have gathered, darkening the sky. The scent of moisture starts to gather in the air, and the green trees edging the meadow are losing their sheen given by the sun.

“...It might rain.”

“Ah...guess we can move. I doubt you’d appreciate being soaked.”

“Not really.”

A lot of rustling ensues, and eye coverings are tucked into pockets. They stand; one hand is snatched by another and is tugged along with a kiss-bruised smile.

A test mobile suit frame waits in the surrounding brush. It’s a humble little thing: a small scout unit used to test new joints and gravity stabilizers, painted in neutral colors and appearing nondescript as it lurks in the shade. A loud clap of thunder jolts the couple into a hurried retreat toward their vehicle.

They don’t quite make it.

Rain, dull and gray like the mobile suit and the current sky, pours in sheets just before they touch the cockpit.

An irate squawk follows a hoist into the mech. An uncomfortable amount of water comes with them. A couple of sneezes suggest that the now-soaked clothing should be removed. This is done, despite the cramped area, and the articles are discarded on the floor. A towel and two plain flight suits are procured from the small storage, and the former absorbs as much moisture as it can.

But something catches an eye. “ -- Biologically different, you said.”

And exactly what this means is partially revealed: between pale legs the skin is almost unsettlingly smooth, with no genitalia to be seen. Knees buckle together, trying to hide the truth, but a hand catches a thigh, amazed that this was kept a secret from everyone for so long -- especially after the Meisters have had to hurriedly change together for missions.

The hand does not move. Instead, its double cups a cheek delicately, drawing face down to receive one more kiss. “I said I just want to be by your side. That hasn’t changed.”

“But -- your expression -- don’t _lie_ to me, not about this.”

He sighs. “...I can’t say I’m easily accepting...this. You were right: you _are_ different, and my reaction _isn’t your fault_. I wasn’t expecting it -- but it’s not bad. Just...not ‘biologically human’.”

Shaky hands brace themselves on bare shoulders. “I...did tell you…”

“That you did.” Hips are tugged downward, and he winds up with the other in his lap.

“L -- ”

“Shh.” He slides his arms around his companion. “Give me time. Let me hold you.”

“Like this, though?”

“You’re shaking.” Voice is soft -- gentle. “Let me warm you up.”

“I’m not cold.”

“I know.”

At this he falls silent, tucking his head onto the shoulder where it rested in the grass earlier. Curious digits trace the exposed skin pressed against his own.

And there they stay, an almost platonically intimate embrace curled in the cockpit of a grunt mobile suit as the rain continues to pour around them, until: “...Y’know, dullahans are a type of faerie that don’t require their heads attached to survi -- _ow_! _Stop_ that!”

“I would die, just like any other.” But he does pull back from his bite of reprimand, albeit with an almost pout. “Humans are terrifying, so easily speaking of decapitating those precious to them.”

“You must be human, then, too, with _literally_ almost biting my head off!”

A muted _hmph_ precedes him leaning further in, adjusting to the nude proximity. For a long while they simply watch the rain. “Do you also love this color of the sky?”

“Yeah. This color lets me hold you closer.”

And he can’t find a reply to that. Within the downpour of a lullaby, they drift into a nap with bodies thoroughly entwined ( and heads firmly attached ).

**Author's Note:**

> i am drawing the lines again -- i hope you caught the definitive reference to regene & tieria's subplot in season 2.


End file.
